


Growing Through and Through

by tiggeryumyum



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 01:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16843996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiggeryumyum/pseuds/tiggeryumyum
Summary: Oikawa Tooru is a brat, and absolutely nothing like Kuroo Tetsurou, at all.





	Growing Through and Through

Of course Oikawa Tooru is a setter.

Kuroo doesn't really know the guy, he's seen a few spreads about him in Sports Week, heard a few stories from Karasuno, but all it takes is a few minutes with him in the gym, and yeah. 

Volleyball is a team sport, but if there's any position that lends itself to self-important grandiosity, it's the setter. 

Oikawa's got the mannerisms of a teenage girl, gives cutesy little peace signs during introductions, practically cooing with each and every movement, _aren't I cute~?_

It'd be hilarious if he wasn't _actually_ cute, but he is, which makes it teeter on annoying. 

Kuroo can feel the players in the gym tense up, confused, struggling to make sense of this strange man, but Kuroo's more amused by it than anything else. It's a creative form of posturing to say the least, and the guy's talented enough, so, you know, whatever – until he sees Oikawa talking to Kageyama.

"I hope you're taking time to sight-see around the city, Tobio-chan," he says, saccharine sweet sarcasm. "It'd be a shame for you to travel all the way out here for nothing~"

"I came to play for the national team, Oikawa-san," Kageyama mutters, expression dark. Kageyama can explode in anger, Kuroo's seen it, but he looks too far in over his head to do so today. 

All Oikawa's earlier subtlety is out the window, and he's posturing and cackling like some kind of Disney villain – and Kuroo never exactly clicked with Kageyama, but watching him shuffle in place, grimacing as he attempts to keep pace with Oikawa's sharp, needling taunts, Kuroo feels a distinct, senpai-like wave of protectiveness.

"Heeey," Kuroo says, coming up from behind, ignoring Oikawa completely, putting his arm across Kageyama's shoulder, ruffling his hair. "Hardly recognized you, Kag'yama-kun. How tall are you now? 2 meters?"

"Kuroo-san," Kageyama forces out, and endures Kuroo's hand on his head a moment longer, out of what Kuroo guesses to be grudging respect, then tugs away. "I'm 186."

"Ah, too bad," Kuroo says, then gives Kageyama a good push in the opposite direction, toward practice. This is when he finally glances toward Oikawa, keeping his grin lazy as he looks him up and down. "Guess we can't all clear 190."

The comment was directed at Kageyama, a harmless tease, but after it's out of Kuroo's mouth he realizes it definitely doesn't sound like that. Especially paired with the eye contact, it sounds like a snide little insult toward Oikawa, and the cutesy mask melts away from Oikawa's face, revealing something ugly, bratty. Hateful. 

Kuroo thinks it's a good look for him. It's honest, at least. 

~

They're at the start of a two week long evaluation for the All Japan team. 

Most of the players invited to apply are jostling for a spot on reserve, as the regular roster has already been filled by the team from the previous years, excepting a few golden positions. The setter is one, and Bokuto and Kuroo elbow the crap out of each other when Chiba, setter for Tokyo FC, walks into the gym.

There's a player that Oikawa doesn't mess with. He's all respectful cooing again, and when he sizes up Miya Atsumu with a few sharp words, it's clearly a part of Oikawa's game. He's not aiming to hurt when he taunts Atsumu with going home, and Atsumu just grins back, enjoying the routine and holding his own. 

After watching more reasonable scenes with his other adversaries, Kuroo wonders if he might have exaggerated Oikawa's treatment of Kageyama in his own head, but before practice is even over the first day, Oikawa and Kageyama end up tussling over the same volleyball, tugging back and forth, and it doesn't take much to figure out who the instigator was.

It's immature. Childish. Bratty. 

Kuroo has never seen anything like it, not on the court.

"Seriously?" Yaku asks, unimpressed.

"What?"

"You seriously never saw anyone act the way Oikawa did with Kageyama?"

"No?" Kuroo asks, officially annoyed by the leading tone. 

"Well, I have," Yaku says. "Three years in a row. Whenever you saw Daishou."

"That's – " There are so many disagreements rising up in Kuroo at once that he stutters as he tries to get them straight. "That's _different_."

"How?"

"Daishou isn't – _Kageyama_ ," he says, and that's all, but it's a lot. Daishou is a talker. Kuroo is a talker. They're the same age, they can even sometimes joke around when they see each other outside of tournaments, and more importantly, when Kuroo taunts Daishou, Daishou gives back as good as he gets.

Daishou doesn't just stand there in awkward silence, expression creasing in annoyance and confusion. Kuroo and Daishou are peers, in every sense of the world, where Oikawa and Kageyama are very clearly not.

"Right, guess I missed that," Yaku mutters sarcastically, before Kuroo can say any of this. 

It's an uncharacteristically defeated tone, and Kuroo feels the wind drain out of his sails. Yaku had been invited to the evaluation – the libero position is wide open on the national team, so they're looking for not just the regular spot, but two for reserve. Kuroo had been sure if anyone was going to grab one of those three positions, it'd be Yaku. But he was thanked for his time at the end of the first day, and told he would not need to return. 

"Just try not to get on Oikawa's bad side," Yaku says, voice bland. "The coaches were kissing his ass all day."

Kuroo grunts in agreement. It's annoying – Oikawa is obviously the problem child here, _he_ should be the one concerned with not trying to start a fight – but Yaku is right. The favorites are rising to the top quickly, the load bearing pillars that the rest of the national team will be built around, and Oikawa is apparently one of them. If it looks like he can't play with Oikawa, it will certainly narrow Kuroo's already pretty narrow odds of being considered for the team. 

On the way home that night, Kuroo resolves to approach practices with this mindset: adaptable, non-confrontational. Thankfully he's placed on teams with setter Atsumu for most of the next day. The sets are more aggressive than anything Kuroo's hit before, and of course Atsumu is a bit of a diva, too, prone to insults when he feels like spikers aren't pulling their weight - 

"Are you here to play or just keep the stadium from blowing away?" he snaps, harsh and hateful, toward a massive Miyagi player named Aone. He's a beast of a middle blocker, looks like he might be constructed from concrete himself, so it's a startling thing when this insult actually makes him flinch, frown, clearly hurt.

"Ignore him," Ojiro, Atsumu's teammate from high school, advises, with a hand on Aone's shoulder. "He's a brat."

Kuroo wonders about this moment, later that day. Kuroo had done exactly what Ojiro said, without difficulty, even. He rolled his eyes at Atsumu's insults, which were easily more abrasive than Oikawa's, and ignored it. Why is that? Why was it so much easier to dismiss Atsumu, why did Kuroo respond so poorly to Oikawa?

The answer to this, he has to reluctantly admit, is what Yaku pointed out.

Kuroo can't ever imagine saying what Atsumu said to a teammate, even if they were fucking around on the court. Even Lev at his worst, he didn't resort to anything other than short, barking insults and instructions to shape up. 

But.

Oikawa's taunting. Zeroing in on weaknesses and digging in with fingernails and teeth, clinging, thrilling when it makes contact – that's something Kuroo understands, and an urge he feels himself. And that's why he feels free to condemn Oikawa for them, because he knows that he could control it, if he wanted. 

~

"Oh, Kuro-chan," Oikawa singsongs the morning they're finally paired on the same team. "If you need help taming that bedhead, let me know~"

"I'm all ears, buddy," Kuroo says, bouncing the ball in his hand once. He watches with some amusement as Oikawa frowns, having clearly hoped for a more dramatic reaction. _Swing and a miss, Tooru._ Far be it from Kuroo to turn his nose up at any tips when it comes to the mess on his head, though he does somewhat doubt Oikawa knows of any tricks Kuroo hadn't tried as a junior high schooler, back when he was optimistic enough to believe anything could be done, and energetic enough to actually try. 

Of course Oikawa doesn't have any actual suggestions. 

~

"Good morning Bedhead-chan," Oikawa singsongs, the morning after that, when Kuroo shows up to practice. 

If it was anyone else, Kuroo would respond with something about how _precious_ Oikawa thinks he is, but there's no point in that because Oikawa would clearly take that as a compliment, and, more infuriatingly, Oikawa is a very pretty boy. 

Kuroo grins to himself, the path of his attack suddenly an obvious wide road ahead of him.

"Long night, Oikawa?"

Oikawa blinks in surprise. "Eh?"

"Just, those bags under your eyes – sorry, never mind," Kuroo says, waving his hand dismissively. "None of my business."

Oikawa's hand flies under his eye before he can help it, testing the, of course, porcelain smooth surface, unsettled and furious as he turns back around.

~

"Good morning Tettsukun," Oikawa coos, the morning after that.

"If you're really this desperate for my attention," Kuroo say quietly, stepping up into Oikawa's personal space. "All you have to do is ask."

This is harsher than he means it to be, but Kuroo's not the one who decided to put on a play for the entire gym. That was Oikawa, and Oikawa is the one who stiffens now, under both Kuroo's gaze and the rest of the players warming p, as they wait to see how he'll handle Kuroo's quiet, murmuring statement. Most of them are probably assuming was a threat. 

"Ha," Oikawa forces out a little dryly, shoving Kuroo back. Kuroo goes without a fight, turning back to warm ups.

"What was that?" Bokuto asks, eyes wide when Kuroo returns to his side at an easy pace, refusing to rush. 

"Just Oikawa," Kuroo says. "Being Oikawa."

He stops fishing after that.

Over the next two weeks he's paired with Oikawa five times on the court, and during those times, it is admittedly fun, enough that Kuroo could almost forget what an blowhard he is. He's not a setter like Kenma, and he's not as accurate as Kageyama, but he _knows_ what Kuroo is going for, on what appears to be an instinctive level – has he been watching Kuroo practice with the other setters? – and makes it work . He paves the way for Kuroo to hit the spikes Kuroo wants to spike, almost before Kuroo knows it.

He lands after hitting a ball, feeling almost dazed at how good it felt, and feels, palm stinging. Oikawa grins at him, smug and knowing, from his position beside the net. 

"You're obnoxious, you know that?" Kuroo says, and Oikawa _gasps_.

"Kuro-chan!" he whines. "Even after I gave you that straight!"

"Even after that," Kuroo confirms.

~

Kuroo really has no idea who is going to get the regular setter position. All of them are great, and all of them are completely unique. Personally, Kuroo would pick Kageyama, but no one asks Kuroo. 

They send him home after the last day of evaluations, and then he gets the email, two days later. 

It says that Kuroo has been placed on reserve. It includes a list of regulars which includes both Oikawa and Kageyama. 

~

 **Me** :  
Do you know Oikawa Tooru

 **Lovely Tsukki** :  
Setter for Aoba Johsai  
Why?

 **Me** :  
I made it onto the national team  
reserve  
and he's one of the team's setters  
and annoying as all hell.

 **Lovely Tsukki** :  
HA!!

 **Me** :  
-_-

 **Tsukki the Brat** :  
He's good at least  
but congratulations  
you two deserve each other.

~

There's another difference between Kuroo and Daishou, and Kageyama and Oikawa. 

Daishou is a wing spiker. Daishou was never on Kuroo's team. The rivalry between them was clean and easy, black and white. 

Kageyama and Oikawa are both setters.

"Wow," the coach says. "Kageyama's on fire today."

He is, and he's got a bright, brilliant energy that nearly blinds every single person in the gym. He's in the zone, and the cool heat in his gaze is the kind of thing to give a chill to anyone facing him down on the other side of the net.

Or, Kuroo supposes, anyone who wants to take a position from him.

Practices officially end at six in the afternoon, but the gym is open until eight, and it's not unusual for most of the players to stay. Sometimes, if they're working on something or in a groove, they'll stay even later than that.

This isn't high school, no one's going to be shadowing after them to ask if they're sure, if they should rest, take a break. They're adults, they know their limits. It's up to each player to take care of themselves.

Kuroo lingers in the locker room, and it's late by the time he leaves, almost nine. He hears the familiar sound of sneakers against the floor of the gym, and a heavy, rhythmic _thunk_. _Thunk._ _Thunk._.

Brow creasing, Kuroo follows the noise, and sees the lights on the gym still on. Oikawa. The net is put away, but he has the cart of balls beside him. Step, step, step, toss, _smash_. A deadly serve. Lethal force. The kind of energy that can really only come from an act of self-defense. From fear. 

Kuroo never feared Daishou.

Kuroo breathes out slowly, looking between Oikawa's face and the cart of balls, watching a beat longer before making up his mind. 

"Oi."

Oikawa whirls toward him, startled. His expression is ugly, but furious. Honest. "I'll stop when I'm done."

"Alright," he says. 

Oikawa expression clears in obvious confusion. 

Kuroo crosses the gym, still in his street clothes, but it's not like he's going to break a sweat tossing balls.

"What are you doing?" Oikawa asks.

"You want to practice your toss, right?" Kuroo asks, picking up one of the balls. "There's not a spiker, but." He shrugs.

It's an interesting thing, watching the defensiveness melt from Oikawa's body, what has to be relief taking its place, relaxing his posture. 

"Thanks."

"Mm," Kuroo says, and tosses the ball.


End file.
